I'll Be Seeing You
by dizzy - in - the - izzy
Summary: On the anniversary, and every other day of the year, he's constantly reminded of her presence. He always will be. Angsty. Oneshot.


**Title: **I'll Be Seeing You  
><strong>Author: <strong>dizzy - in - the - izzy  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I think it's apparent I need to rethink my life a little...

**A/N: **So, a friend (alright, a crazy cat lady I know) was talking about how she loved angst and yadda yadda, and I was listening to this song, and I suddenly got an idea for an angst fic. And I'm not usually one for angst, but this just flowed out of my fingers. I couldn't stop it. So, here it is. Prepare tissues, I was crying while typing at one point and I had to stop.

Any and all mistakes I apologize for. This was written late at night. Well, actually, early morning.

* * *

><p><em>I'll be seeing you,<br>In all the old familiar places;  
>That this heart of mine embraces,<br>All day through._

He sits on his couch, the lights off. He hadn't bothered to turn them on when he walked in, as he knows his way around. He'd sat down on the couch, and that was an hour ago. His body is melting into the cushions, a numbing feeling slowly overcoming him. He can't remember the last time he blinked, and his eyes feel dry. He tries to make them blink, but nothing happens. The darkness remains, and he gives up. He remains sitting there. He'll remain there for another hour.

When the urge to move finally hits him, he stands. He has no idea where his feet are taking him, but he's along for the ride at this point. He slowly walks out the front door, and down to the street. He finds the idea of walking into traffic pleasant that this point.

He can't remember street names, or the restaurants he passes. There's a sign that looks familiar, but it doesn't hit him. His feet stop, and he stares at the sign. It takes him a moment, and then the memory washes over him. He tries to move, but his feet are stuck. He stares at the sign, as he finds his neck is locked in place. He pulls at his muscles, begging them to move, and when they finally do, he's walking again. This time his feet take him across a street, and towards a coffee shop. He's aware of what this coffee shop means, and he's desperately trying to turn around when he finds himself standing under the awning.

He stares inside, his eyes blank. No one is inside, as it's well after midnight. He doesn't understand how he has comprehension of the time in this state.

He moves again, and he shuts his eyes. His feet seem to know where to go, so he doesn't question them. When he stops again, he doesn't want to open his eyes. He remains standing wherever he's at, with his eyes squeezed shut, until his arms jerks and he looks up. He feels something stinging in his eyes.

She always loved this boutique…

He finally finds the will to move on his own accord, and he moves with purpose. He has to find somewhere to be in peace, and calm, that doesn't bring up a memory of a lost life. He comes to a bus stop, and decides to sit. He can see that the rain is threatening to fall, so he finds shelter in the glass room.

Again, time passes in a blur. His mind reels, and he can't stop thinking. He wants it all to stop, so he tries to focus on something else. Something happy.

McGee was wearing a funny jacket at the office. It had buttons. It makes him laugh for a moment, and then he remembers the look of hurt, anguish, on his friends face. He turns to something else.

Abby was wearing her love shirt. She always looks good in that shirt. But then he remembers the way she tried to hug him, and how he pushed her away. The look of hurt on her face…

He kicks himself, mentally, before he tries to come up with something happy. Something that doesn't remind him what day it is.

But he can't. He lacks the capacity to think of a happy thought, and he's aware why. He tries to find a happy memory. There are none.

He curses as he stands, and that's when the rain starts. He can't believe the irony, the cliché way in which it falls around him. He's stuck in the booth, unless he wants to brave the rain, the cold, the numb feeling of the water on his skin and in his clothes.

He steps out of the box.

He's aware that it's dangerous, and he could most likely get hit, but he walks out into the middle of the street. The rain begins to fall harder, a complete down pour. He smiles up at the sky, but he doesn't feel any emotions behind it. It's an action his face makes, a reflex. It has no meaning anymore. It never will again.

He can feel the numbness beginning, the sense that his body isn't there. He's losing body heat, his shirt is stuck to ever part of his skin, and his shoes are now ruined. He's glad he wore his running shoes.

As he stands there, he finds a spot to balance. He can't hear his own thoughts over the rain pounding down around him, making the street look like a river. He's still smiling, but it's becoming more sad.

He realizes that some of the rain droplets are warm, and he reaches up to his eyes. He looks at his hand, noticing the intense shaking. His whole body is quivering, and he knows what's going on. He hasn't let out anything in that day. There was no release of his emotions. And now, in the middle of an empty street, with the rain all around him, the flood gates open.

He lets out a broken sob, and then he stops. He doesn't know who can hear him, but then he doesn't care. The sob wracks though him again, and then he's shaking and trembling and sobbing and his arms are shaking so bad he can't think. He feels his knees begin to go, so before he falls, he lowers himself to the ground. He lays on his back, hoping the pavement will calm his shaking.

It only makes it worse.

It's now that his chest aches, telling him that this is what he needed. In the morning, he won't regret it. Now, he wishes it didn't have to be like this.

He looks to his right, and stares at the water as it falls to the pavement. It soothes his mind for a moment. But then the moments gone, and he's trembling and sobbing again. He can feel the tears flowing from his eyes.

He never thought he'd cry, but now he is.

He opens his mouth, and another sob comes out. He swallows, taking in a deep breath, before he tries again.

"You shouldn't have died," he whispers to the rain, his only witness. He's glad it's that way.

He might just be exhausted, but he swears he can hear someone speaking back to him, telling him he's wrong. It sounds so much like her, his insides shake and he thinks he might throw up.

"You had so much to live for, so much to do. You didn't deserve to die," he murmurs to the rain. It responds by another wave of heavy droplets.

"I… we all loved you. We still do. But you're gone-" he breaks, and his words do not come to him. He wants to say more, but he thinks he's gone too far. It's not fair. It doesn't do anything justice.

The rain begins to let up, and that's when he sits up. He looks around, and finds that no one witnessed him losing it, in the middle of the street. He stands, shakes his head (though the action is useless as more water just replaces the fallen droplets) and moved back towards the bus stop.

He waits for a couple moments, and then he gets an idea.

It takes half an hour to get to the cemetery. On the way there, he passes the park, her favorite park, and the bench they always ended up sitting on. He walks through the intersection where he first kissed her.

He swallows.

He finally arrives as the rain stops. The tears have long since stopped flowing, and he knows there are no more to shed.

He walks through the grass, his feet sinking into it. He finally reaches the destination he's come to many times before. He visits on her birthday, his birthday, New Years, 4th of July, Christmas, Hanukah, and any other day that permits it. He visits more than he cares to admit.

He falls to his knees, like so many times before, and stares at the tombstone. It's something he's analyzed before, something he's spent hours looking at, just to make sure it's real. Just to make sure the dates, the name is correct.

With a sigh, he reaches out and touches it. It's something he normally doesn't do, because he feels that he's invading her personal space. This is her tombstone. It's her grave.

He bites his bottom lip, to keep the tears from coming again. But there are none, and only his body shakes.

"It's been a year," he says aloud, "but it feels like yesterday."

The last part comes out choked, and he has to look up. There is an ever-growing knot in his throat. He can't get it to leave.

"You… you left us hanging, broken, in a mess. We still haven't recovered."

He thinks about McGee, the man that hasn't smiled in a year. He doesn't engage with anyone unless he has too, and he's pushed everyone at arm's length. Even Abby, who tries desperately to hold them together. And especially Tony, but there is a mutual understanding, and they both know the other hurts. They don't talk about it, but when one needs it, the others there. But they never talk about it.

And then Abby, who's broken down so much that she's almost told to take time off. Vance knows the Goth, and knows that it might ruin her. And it almost has, but she hasn't let it, because she can't leave. She feels obligated to stay, to keep them from falling apart. And yet, they are.

Finally, there's Gibbs. And even though the boss hasn't shown much, they all know what he's feeling. He lost a daughter, something that hurts him more than he wants to admit. He's lost a lot of women in his life, all of which he cared about deeply. The loss of her, though, hits him hard. He hasn't fully recovered, and it's obvious. He doesn't even talk most days.

Tony… he can't explain his own feelings. He's an investigator; he can read his team like a book.

But that doesn't mean he's good at reading himself.

"I love you," he whispers to the cold air, staring at the name on the rock. Two tears fall from his eyes, and he knows that the end. He won't cry again, but he'll feel numb for a couple days.

"We all will always love you," he says as an afterthought, knowing it's true. The loss they felt about Kate still follows them. The loss of Ziva… it's obvious it'll never leave.

Standing up, Tony takes one last look at her grave. There are fresh flowers, a letter in a bag, and a lone paper clip. He smiles, and this time he can feel some semblance of happiness.

He walks back to his apartment, watching out for the places, the shops and street corners and coffee shops that will always hold meaning. And when he reaches his apartment, he knows that home will always hold the smell of her perfume, skin, and the sound of her laughter.

He hears his cell phone ringing inside, and hurries to answer it.

"DiNozzo," he says, his voice hoarse. He hears a sigh on the other end, and knows who it is.

"I was just calling to make sure you were alright," Tim says quietly, and Tony almost cries again.

"Are you alright, Tim?" he asks, and he hears his friend sigh. They both know they will be fine in the morning, and that another day will pass the same as the last, but the knowledge that they have each other, they have their team, makes them a little bit stronger.

"I'll be fine," Tim whispers back, and Tony nods.

"Get sleep, and don't be late in the morning," he says the last part jokingly, and he hears an empty laugh.

"You too," Tim says before the line goes dead.

Tony lets out a breath, and heads for the shower.

October 15th will never again just be another day, but he's glad that he has his team, his family, to go through it with him.

It's that thought, the somewhat comforting feeling that even though they are falling apart, they'll somehow stick together, that allows Tony to drift into sleep that night.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hold on, I need to wipe my eyes. I lose it at the part with Gibbs. I seriously do.

Reviews and comments and such are appreciated, encouraged.

Tell me what you think. I don't usually do angst.

-Izzy


End file.
